The Customer - Poem by Kyle Harbinger
A customer just told me that sunshine
Was falling off of her roof.
I looked at the old lady and smiled.
I was confused yet in awe of her power.
It was then when I realized
We were meant to relax and talk about death
She would ask me something like
My perception of heaven
I would say something about pastures
She would nod and say,
“If we smell like the day we were born
And there are tall trees to climb,
I will have forgotten I was once mortal.”
She took her cigarettes
And left me a smile
To remember her by
To ask her if she wanted to die.
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